It's that strange limbo week between Christmas and New Year. I have been basically flopping around my house, my mother's house, my friends houses.. post-viral fatigue has rather knocked me off my feet. About Christmas? Well.. it was interesting. A whole lot of stress and not a lot of fun. I don't even know if people like the presents that I gave them... but I got my digital camera. So expect some interesting photos soon enough.
Yes, I will be jumping on the Half Naked Thursday bandwagon!
Alas - internet connection is too slow for me to include many intertextual references in this entry, so I'll just give a general point in the direction of all of the thousands of articles about Saddam Hussein's execution. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but it's definitely one of those events that will be remembered for a long time.
Saturday, December 30
Sunday, December 24
Dining Horror and the Politics of Christmas
Last night, Lucien and I went to see Casino Royale. I won't spoil anything here, except to say that it was fantastic. Daniel Craig was brilliant as Bond, and by the end of the opening titles I was already in raptures. Go see it, preferrably multiple times!
The film was great, but unfortunately it was preceeded by a pretty disappointing dining experience. We went to La Porchetta for some pizza and pasta before the movie, hoping it would be quick and cheap. It was both of those things, but was it too much to ask for some service? Maybe I'm just being catty, but it wasn't a very good experience. My blood orange granita didn't have a straw, which I let slide and simply ate it with a spoon. Then as our meals arrived, they didn't bother giving us any cutlery. Later as we asked for some ice water, they unceremoniously plonked a bottle on our table without even looking to see whether we had any glasses.
But the low point was my actual meal. Lucien ordered a pizza, but I chose pasta - gnocchi with a salmon, spring onion and capers in a cream and white wine reduction. I had it another time, and it was delicious - several biggish chunks of perfectly cooked salmon (i.e. just undercooked) in a delicate aromatic sauce, highlighted by the sharpness of the spring onions and capers and piquant little sparks of black pepper. The sauce wasn't overpowering, nor was there too much of it: it simply coated the pasta, and that was all - it was great.
The dish I was presented with last night was an entirely different story. The gnocchi was literally swimming in an orangey, oily cream sauce, surrounded by tiny little flakes of greyish overcooked salmon, maybe two or three little pieces of practically chargrilled spring onion, and there were a couple of capers thrown on top. I was amazed, and I actually said to the girl, "I'm sorry, I ordered the salmon gnocchi."
To this she replied, in a rather bratty manner, "Um, that's it."
I sort of looked at her incredulously, and she grabbed the plate and offered to check with her manager. I felt a little bad for complaining, but I felt even worse when she brought back the same plate and roughly put it on the table in front of me and said, "That's it.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!! I was so annoyed at the service to begin with, but then they served me what looked like the scrapings from a hundred other plates heated up! I got angry, but for Lucien's sake and because we had a movie to see, I didn't argue the point. But that's the last they'll see of me.
In other news, it's Christmas tomorrow, though it's strangely getting less exciting and more stressful as I'm getting older. I have spent more money than I have on presents for everybody, and now I have to work a rather long and stressful shift on Boxing Day. I have been sick for the last week (viral tonilitis) so there has been little/no work, but from Christmas to New Year's Eve, I'll be flat out. Oh well, I'll make lots of money. And money equals pretty dresses, cocktails with friends, moving into a my own proper house, maybe going overseas somewhere next year. Oh, and the boring things like school books and student union fees. Mmm.
Lucien is having Christmas with the extended family at his house tomorrow. His little sister is bringing her boyfriend of about a month, so it finally occurred to Lucien that it might be an idea to invite his girlfriend of two years along. Unfortunately I can't go, but I don't think they'd like me anyway. In situations with strangers, it is very easy to 'trump' myself up.. and make myself appear bigger, better and brighter than I actually am. For example; I am not a shopgirl, I work for Myer Melbourne, and I'm not a first year Arts student at Melbourne Uni, I'm currently completing a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Melbourne, and I'm an aspiring actress, I already am an actress. Subtle word games and mental shifts. But for Lucien's family, even the exaggerations that are verging on being lies wouldn't cut it. They're incredibly.. well, not arrogant, but perhaps judgmental. Despite the fact that Lucien is absolutely smitten with me, I am simply not good enough for his family. Not that any of them are doing anything that I would really look up to or admire. But enough on that, Lucien might get annoyed if he reads this.
The rest of Christmas Eve, for me, will be spent rugged up. I'm not well and I'm afraid that I have been acting as if I'm perfectly well. It's catching up with me faster than the antibiotics can work, so I'm feeling quite bad. So the rest of the night will be spent in pajamas with my little pink slipper-socks, laying under a quilt and watching Christmas movies. Quite possibly eating chocolates as well. Hope you all have a similarly nice Christmas Eve, and a wonderful day tomorrow. Visit your families, eat food that you shouldn't, make merry and smile so much that your face hurts!
The film was great, but unfortunately it was preceeded by a pretty disappointing dining experience. We went to La Porchetta for some pizza and pasta before the movie, hoping it would be quick and cheap. It was both of those things, but was it too much to ask for some service? Maybe I'm just being catty, but it wasn't a very good experience. My blood orange granita didn't have a straw, which I let slide and simply ate it with a spoon. Then as our meals arrived, they didn't bother giving us any cutlery. Later as we asked for some ice water, they unceremoniously plonked a bottle on our table without even looking to see whether we had any glasses.
But the low point was my actual meal. Lucien ordered a pizza, but I chose pasta - gnocchi with a salmon, spring onion and capers in a cream and white wine reduction. I had it another time, and it was delicious - several biggish chunks of perfectly cooked salmon (i.e. just undercooked) in a delicate aromatic sauce, highlighted by the sharpness of the spring onions and capers and piquant little sparks of black pepper. The sauce wasn't overpowering, nor was there too much of it: it simply coated the pasta, and that was all - it was great.
The dish I was presented with last night was an entirely different story. The gnocchi was literally swimming in an orangey, oily cream sauce, surrounded by tiny little flakes of greyish overcooked salmon, maybe two or three little pieces of practically chargrilled spring onion, and there were a couple of capers thrown on top. I was amazed, and I actually said to the girl, "I'm sorry, I ordered the salmon gnocchi."
To this she replied, in a rather bratty manner, "Um, that's it."
I sort of looked at her incredulously, and she grabbed the plate and offered to check with her manager. I felt a little bad for complaining, but I felt even worse when she brought back the same plate and roughly put it on the table in front of me and said, "That's it.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!! I was so annoyed at the service to begin with, but then they served me what looked like the scrapings from a hundred other plates heated up! I got angry, but for Lucien's sake and because we had a movie to see, I didn't argue the point. But that's the last they'll see of me.
In other news, it's Christmas tomorrow, though it's strangely getting less exciting and more stressful as I'm getting older. I have spent more money than I have on presents for everybody, and now I have to work a rather long and stressful shift on Boxing Day. I have been sick for the last week (viral tonilitis) so there has been little/no work, but from Christmas to New Year's Eve, I'll be flat out. Oh well, I'll make lots of money. And money equals pretty dresses, cocktails with friends, moving into a my own proper house, maybe going overseas somewhere next year. Oh, and the boring things like school books and student union fees. Mmm.
Lucien is having Christmas with the extended family at his house tomorrow. His little sister is bringing her boyfriend of about a month, so it finally occurred to Lucien that it might be an idea to invite his girlfriend of two years along. Unfortunately I can't go, but I don't think they'd like me anyway. In situations with strangers, it is very easy to 'trump' myself up.. and make myself appear bigger, better and brighter than I actually am. For example; I am not a shopgirl, I work for Myer Melbourne, and I'm not a first year Arts student at Melbourne Uni, I'm currently completing a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Melbourne, and I'm an aspiring actress, I already am an actress. Subtle word games and mental shifts. But for Lucien's family, even the exaggerations that are verging on being lies wouldn't cut it. They're incredibly.. well, not arrogant, but perhaps judgmental. Despite the fact that Lucien is absolutely smitten with me, I am simply not good enough for his family. Not that any of them are doing anything that I would really look up to or admire. But enough on that, Lucien might get annoyed if he reads this.
The rest of Christmas Eve, for me, will be spent rugged up. I'm not well and I'm afraid that I have been acting as if I'm perfectly well. It's catching up with me faster than the antibiotics can work, so I'm feeling quite bad. So the rest of the night will be spent in pajamas with my little pink slipper-socks, laying under a quilt and watching Christmas movies. Quite possibly eating chocolates as well. Hope you all have a similarly nice Christmas Eve, and a wonderful day tomorrow. Visit your families, eat food that you shouldn't, make merry and smile so much that your face hurts!
Monday, December 18
Social Butterfly
Made a trip back to my home town on the weekend to do some catching up with family and friends. I ended up meeting quite a few new people, and much to my surprise, I wasn't half as shy or awkward or weird as I normally am. I was actually holding my own with people in an entirely different age group - it was bizarre, but it made me acutely aware of how quickly I am changing from a little girl into a grown adult.
Fawkes took me out to meet Luka, the possible third housemate in the burgeoning moving adventure. I imagined a fairly casual affair, but it was a tad more nerve wracking. Instead of just going out for coffee or whatever, we went out to a waterfront restaurant with Luka, his girlfriend, another friend Jim, and his girlfriend. Being the only non-girlfriend girl there, assumptions were made but quickly corrected. One of the girlfriends seemed to be an avid smoker, so we sat out in the sun for the three or so hours.. wreaking havoc on my skin, and that of our red-headed, fair skin with freckles Fawkes. Drinking for hours in the midday sun is not really something that people our complexion should do.
The thing that struck me the type of conversations that I ended up having; everything felt so adult. The topics were things my parents might have talked to their friends about, and the manner was so practiced. There was no awkwardness or teenage stupidity that is a given with most of my friends who are my own age. The people I was with were only about 6 to 7 years older than me, and I'd like to hope that I held my own with them. One of them asked me straight out how old I was, to which I had to reply with a hushed, "Nineteen," but the others seemed to guess I was around their age. I felt like a secret agent or something, playing a part and pretending to be oh-so-knowledgeable and worldly, just like them. Hopefully it worked.
Another thing I ended up doing was going to a lounge in Flinders Lane called the Purple Emerald, to see Lucien's friend's band play. They were a lovely cute ska-ish band, playing in a tiny, packed and cosy bar. We sat around drinking till the small hours of the morning, and I seemed to be Miss Popular. It astounded me, maybe everybody was drunk, but I seemed to be hot property. I went off to the bathroom at one point, and Lucien's friends turned around and said, "You have such a hot, sexy girlfriend. We finally have respect for you!". My ego was stroked, but no-one's was more than Lucien - he practically could have burst with pride. I will admit that I don't like being identified with those terms, I'd prefer to be admired for being smart, or sparkly, or interesting. But it made Lucien happy. Mmm.. this issue requires more thought - self-discovery going on, and I'm freaking out!!!..
(I've had my weird moment now).
After lunch on Sunday with Fawkes, more fun was had - got some Christmas shopping done and spent waaaaay too much money, rode the new huge Ferris wheel on the waterfront, and saw Borat. I will admit that I was initially skeptical about the merit of this film, guessing it would be the same low humour that rakes in the box office dollars time and time again for film companies trying to make a buck without actually doing any real work. I figured it would be vulgar farce, but it surprised me. On the advice of my little sister, I talked Fawkes into coming to see it with me.
It was fantastic. Firstly, I have to applaud how funny it was. It was hilarious. During the naked wrestling scene, I laughed so hard that I had tears. It really was a laugh a minute, but quality laughs rather than set-up, cliche humour.
But the thing that stunned me and made me walk away feeling like it was a really good film was the revealing way it captured a slice of American culture and society. Borat's dealings with people were set up to be humourous, but often portrayed a pretty shocking view of certain groups of American people. It's funny that people were complaining about the portrayal of Kazakhstan when America was represented so horrifyingly and worst of all, honestly. To anybody who has seen the film, did it not strike you as shocking that the woman at the dinner party would even show Borat's character in detail exactly how you go to the toilet in Western countries, but could not tolerate the presence of an African-American prostitute - even one who did appear to be quite mild-mannered, polite and even sweet? Or the way that the fans at the rodeo clapped and cheered when Borat naively declared his hope that Bush would drink the blood of Iraqi women and children? Or when that man actually said that he was hoping that they would bring in laws to hang homosexuals?
I thought it was Borat's major strength to be able to carry such heavy political and social sentiments, whilst remaining ridiculously funny. I adored it, can't wait to get it on DVD.
Now back in Melbourne, and feeling a little worse for wear. I'm hoping this isn't a return of the dreaded glandular fever that haunted me all through my final two years of high school, but I have to say that it feels similar. After napping and having some noodles this afternoon, things felt a bit better, but I seem to be slipping into the same malaise now. Oh well. Think positive. If I act like I'm healthy and well and fine, hopefully that will be enough (plus some vitamins) to fend off sickness.
Fawkes took me out to meet Luka, the possible third housemate in the burgeoning moving adventure. I imagined a fairly casual affair, but it was a tad more nerve wracking. Instead of just going out for coffee or whatever, we went out to a waterfront restaurant with Luka, his girlfriend, another friend Jim, and his girlfriend. Being the only non-girlfriend girl there, assumptions were made but quickly corrected. One of the girlfriends seemed to be an avid smoker, so we sat out in the sun for the three or so hours.. wreaking havoc on my skin, and that of our red-headed, fair skin with freckles Fawkes. Drinking for hours in the midday sun is not really something that people our complexion should do.
The thing that struck me the type of conversations that I ended up having; everything felt so adult. The topics were things my parents might have talked to their friends about, and the manner was so practiced. There was no awkwardness or teenage stupidity that is a given with most of my friends who are my own age. The people I was with were only about 6 to 7 years older than me, and I'd like to hope that I held my own with them. One of them asked me straight out how old I was, to which I had to reply with a hushed, "Nineteen," but the others seemed to guess I was around their age. I felt like a secret agent or something, playing a part and pretending to be oh-so-knowledgeable and worldly, just like them. Hopefully it worked.
Another thing I ended up doing was going to a lounge in Flinders Lane called the Purple Emerald, to see Lucien's friend's band play. They were a lovely cute ska-ish band, playing in a tiny, packed and cosy bar. We sat around drinking till the small hours of the morning, and I seemed to be Miss Popular. It astounded me, maybe everybody was drunk, but I seemed to be hot property. I went off to the bathroom at one point, and Lucien's friends turned around and said, "You have such a hot, sexy girlfriend. We finally have respect for you!". My ego was stroked, but no-one's was more than Lucien - he practically could have burst with pride. I will admit that I don't like being identified with those terms, I'd prefer to be admired for being smart, or sparkly, or interesting. But it made Lucien happy. Mmm.. this issue requires more thought - self-discovery going on, and I'm freaking out!!!..
(I've had my weird moment now).
After lunch on Sunday with Fawkes, more fun was had - got some Christmas shopping done and spent waaaaay too much money, rode the new huge Ferris wheel on the waterfront, and saw Borat. I will admit that I was initially skeptical about the merit of this film, guessing it would be the same low humour that rakes in the box office dollars time and time again for film companies trying to make a buck without actually doing any real work. I figured it would be vulgar farce, but it surprised me. On the advice of my little sister, I talked Fawkes into coming to see it with me.
It was fantastic. Firstly, I have to applaud how funny it was. It was hilarious. During the naked wrestling scene, I laughed so hard that I had tears. It really was a laugh a minute, but quality laughs rather than set-up, cliche humour.
But the thing that stunned me and made me walk away feeling like it was a really good film was the revealing way it captured a slice of American culture and society. Borat's dealings with people were set up to be humourous, but often portrayed a pretty shocking view of certain groups of American people. It's funny that people were complaining about the portrayal of Kazakhstan when America was represented so horrifyingly and worst of all, honestly. To anybody who has seen the film, did it not strike you as shocking that the woman at the dinner party would even show Borat's character in detail exactly how you go to the toilet in Western countries, but could not tolerate the presence of an African-American prostitute - even one who did appear to be quite mild-mannered, polite and even sweet? Or the way that the fans at the rodeo clapped and cheered when Borat naively declared his hope that Bush would drink the blood of Iraqi women and children? Or when that man actually said that he was hoping that they would bring in laws to hang homosexuals?
I thought it was Borat's major strength to be able to carry such heavy political and social sentiments, whilst remaining ridiculously funny. I adored it, can't wait to get it on DVD.
Now back in Melbourne, and feeling a little worse for wear. I'm hoping this isn't a return of the dreaded glandular fever that haunted me all through my final two years of high school, but I have to say that it feels similar. After napping and having some noodles this afternoon, things felt a bit better, but I seem to be slipping into the same malaise now. Oh well. Think positive. If I act like I'm healthy and well and fine, hopefully that will be enough (plus some vitamins) to fend off sickness.
Wednesday, December 13
Moving - Part II
Well, not moving. Or at least not moving in the format previously specified. Will pulled out. In a particularly pathetic way. I have to say I am incredibly disappointed in him - when we first came to Melbourne, he was so juvenile, so bratty. I thought that he had grown a bit as a person, but it seems no. He's willing to stay here in a bad environment and just 'cruise' along, rather than strive for something better. Oh well, it's his loss.
Anyway, one obstacle isn't enough to stop me. Fawkes is still keen, assuming that he gets the job he almost has (finding out on Thursday next week). If that is all ok, then we have very little to worry about, except finding an awesome house post haste!
I'm just so excited about finally getting out of this hell-hole, and being in a place where I am surrounded by a select number of people who I share with, as opposed to this hierarchical arrangement. A place where I can have a say in the happenings and goings-on, where I can relax about leaving my stuff in the fridge or my soap in the shower and not having people throw it away. A place where I won't get unjustly yelled at and blamed for every bit of mess. Somewhere nice and somewhere that I can actually call home, rather than 'that place where I stay in Melbourne'.
The future looks bright, and even the darker bits seem surmountable.
Anyway, one obstacle isn't enough to stop me. Fawkes is still keen, assuming that he gets the job he almost has (finding out on Thursday next week). If that is all ok, then we have very little to worry about, except finding an awesome house post haste!
I'm just so excited about finally getting out of this hell-hole, and being in a place where I am surrounded by a select number of people who I share with, as opposed to this hierarchical arrangement. A place where I can have a say in the happenings and goings-on, where I can relax about leaving my stuff in the fridge or my soap in the shower and not having people throw it away. A place where I won't get unjustly yelled at and blamed for every bit of mess. Somewhere nice and somewhere that I can actually call home, rather than 'that place where I stay in Melbourne'.
The future looks bright, and even the darker bits seem surmountable.
Monday, December 11
Drinks?
It signals a new era:
There comes a time in a girl's life where she is not a lowly student struggling to pay the rent and study, but a young woman flitting about town like the social butterfly that has been hiding inside a cocoon for so long.
Instead of sitting at home watching Scrubs in pajamas and eating noodles out of the box, here comes a new Rose, going out for 'drinks' on both Wednesday and Friday nights this week with her work mates from Myer.
Now comes the stressful part - what to wear? How much to drink? What sorts of conversational topics are alright? So many ways in which I could potentially screw things up.
The plan so far is to drink one cocktail very slowly (so I don't get silly, but enough to make me relax), talk on general topics so I can get to know people, and wear what I wore to work but perhaps with a pretty necklace, some different makeup and nicer shoes. Now all I have to do is stress less.
I've been thinking a lot about myself in a social context lately. I barely have a friend in Melbourne, other than some who I am sorry to say that I neglect. If I were to have a party, I would have nobody to invite. It's sad, but it's true and I want to work on fixing that. I think I need to open up to people and stop being so shy and elusive. People get tired of having to chase me and give up; so I'll make myself a little easier to catch. I'll also be braver.. talk to strangers in the cafeteria at work, on the train, and at drinks on Wednesday and Friday. I'll also have to try harder; not forget birthdays, or to return calls - to initiate social activity rather than to wait for it to fall on my doorstep.
There comes a time in a girl's life where she is not a lowly student struggling to pay the rent and study, but a young woman flitting about town like the social butterfly that has been hiding inside a cocoon for so long.
Instead of sitting at home watching Scrubs in pajamas and eating noodles out of the box, here comes a new Rose, going out for 'drinks' on both Wednesday and Friday nights this week with her work mates from Myer.
Now comes the stressful part - what to wear? How much to drink? What sorts of conversational topics are alright? So many ways in which I could potentially screw things up.
The plan so far is to drink one cocktail very slowly (so I don't get silly, but enough to make me relax), talk on general topics so I can get to know people, and wear what I wore to work but perhaps with a pretty necklace, some different makeup and nicer shoes. Now all I have to do is stress less.
I've been thinking a lot about myself in a social context lately. I barely have a friend in Melbourne, other than some who I am sorry to say that I neglect. If I were to have a party, I would have nobody to invite. It's sad, but it's true and I want to work on fixing that. I think I need to open up to people and stop being so shy and elusive. People get tired of having to chase me and give up; so I'll make myself a little easier to catch. I'll also be braver.. talk to strangers in the cafeteria at work, on the train, and at drinks on Wednesday and Friday. I'll also have to try harder; not forget birthdays, or to return calls - to initiate social activity rather than to wait for it to fall on my doorstep.
Moving (hopefully)
What a waste of a day. I woke up at about 1pm, walked to the shops and shared some KFC with Will (what a gourmet treats, bleh) and procrastinated.. procrastinated again, and then procrastinated just a little more. I was meant to go home to my family for the day, staying until tomorrow. I was meant to be giving my little sister her birthday present early, and making industrial amounts of shortbread for everybody I know. I was also meant to be meeting up with a friend, Fawkes, to discuss the moving in together we are hopefully going to be able to organise.
The plan as it stands: Will, Fawkes and I will be going to have a look at a house on Wednesday night. It's a three bedroom terrace house in Fitzroy, close to Brunswick Street. One of the major draw points for the boys is that it is a mere 200 metres or so from a pub. Hopefully it will be nice. Hopefully our application will be accepted above any others received. Hopefully it will work out.
I'm investing a lot of hope in this venture. I'm so eager to get out of my house, and building my hopes up to this level is bound for disaster.
The plan as it stands: Will, Fawkes and I will be going to have a look at a house on Wednesday night. It's a three bedroom terrace house in Fitzroy, close to Brunswick Street. One of the major draw points for the boys is that it is a mere 200 metres or so from a pub. Hopefully it will be nice. Hopefully our application will be accepted above any others received. Hopefully it will work out.
I'm investing a lot of hope in this venture. I'm so eager to get out of my house, and building my hopes up to this level is bound for disaster.
Friday, December 8
New Dress(es)
I bought a dress today. I love describing clothing, so I'll tell you about this one and the one I bought last week. Shouldn't be buying dresses right now - I have started at Myer, but I haven't been paid yet!
My last-week dress is shortish and full, made from cotton. It has thin straps that tie into bows at my shoulders and it is a sort of faded apple green with peachy coloured flowers on it. It comes in at the waist and flares out to end just below my knees.
My today dress is cream coloured cotton, and a similar shape to the last dress but much longer. This dress finishes mid-calf. The bodice and hem have periwinkle ribbon edging, matching the periwinkle sash. The dress has large (maybe 6 or 7 centimetres in diameter) polka dots on it in orange, navy, grey, green, and mustard yellow. The colours sound like they don't go together, but it makes me think of a faded rainbow.
I'll draw some little graphics of each of them for you, I think. I'm thinking about adding some tea-dyed broderie anglaise to the bottom of each of them, because I'm hopelessly addicted to floaty dresses and skirts edged with lacey stuff.
Working at Myer is fun, but exhausting. You sort of have to grit your teeth and count down the hours to each break. So far I've worked 3 shifts, and I have a slightly crazy shift tomorrow. 9am until 7pm. Because it's Christmas, and I'm working in the Christmas department too, it will be mayhem. It's already slightly crazy during weekdays. I'm oh-so-slightly worried - I'm kind of slow at the moment, because I'm not confident at all about my ability to work the cash registers. Hopefully they'll recognise that I'm not going to be that much help in that regard, and make me just stock shelves. I did that today and it's so much easier - I even got a nice workout in my thighs and butt from so much squatting and crouching. And it definitely gave my feet a rest, which was much appreciated! They are currently all bruised and rubbed raw.
As I was leaving tonight on my way to the Hyatt, I was walking behind a couple and their daughter. One thing that struck me as completely odd was the fact that their daughter was on a leash. Yes, a leash. She was strapped into a little black harness with a leash attached being held by her dad. The worst part to behold was that this little girl kept trying to hold on to his hand, but he would pull his hand out of reach and make 'shoo-ing' gestures at her while he and his plastic woman strutted down the street.
This shocked and astounded me. Not because I'd never seen a child-leash before, but because of how... unwanted this little girl must be feeling. I don't want children and I never have, and although part of that comes from purely selfish reasons, one important thing is that I don't think I have got what it takes to provide for a child. Not in a financial way, but I wouldn't be a good mother. I am not someone who can devote time and attention, someone that a child could look up to as a model for their own behaviour, someone who could help their child with homework and guide them through moral dillemas, someone who could love unconditionally and always have time. I'm selfish, and the task of keeping myself sane is something that requires so much effort that there simply would not be enough left over for a child. But I am glad that I can acknowledge this.
These people were treating their child like a person would treat a puppy that couldn't be left at home by itself, so they had to begrudgingly take it along with them (mind you, I would treat a dog with a lot less contempt than they showed for their daughter). The responsibility that goes with having a child is so much more than making sure they have clothes, food and schooling; a parent should be someone who makes an everlasting impression on their child, in the best possible way - they should be someone that their child can look up to, learn from and be able to turn to for advice, guidance and support. If people aren't ready for this, why on earth do they do it? Abortion is not that hard; people should wait until they are responsible enough for children, or not have them at all.. rather than putting children through pain, confusion and isolation.
I'm going to get flamed badly for that.
My last-week dress is shortish and full, made from cotton. It has thin straps that tie into bows at my shoulders and it is a sort of faded apple green with peachy coloured flowers on it. It comes in at the waist and flares out to end just below my knees.
My today dress is cream coloured cotton, and a similar shape to the last dress but much longer. This dress finishes mid-calf. The bodice and hem have periwinkle ribbon edging, matching the periwinkle sash. The dress has large (maybe 6 or 7 centimetres in diameter) polka dots on it in orange, navy, grey, green, and mustard yellow. The colours sound like they don't go together, but it makes me think of a faded rainbow.
I'll draw some little graphics of each of them for you, I think. I'm thinking about adding some tea-dyed broderie anglaise to the bottom of each of them, because I'm hopelessly addicted to floaty dresses and skirts edged with lacey stuff.
Working at Myer is fun, but exhausting. You sort of have to grit your teeth and count down the hours to each break. So far I've worked 3 shifts, and I have a slightly crazy shift tomorrow. 9am until 7pm. Because it's Christmas, and I'm working in the Christmas department too, it will be mayhem. It's already slightly crazy during weekdays. I'm oh-so-slightly worried - I'm kind of slow at the moment, because I'm not confident at all about my ability to work the cash registers. Hopefully they'll recognise that I'm not going to be that much help in that regard, and make me just stock shelves. I did that today and it's so much easier - I even got a nice workout in my thighs and butt from so much squatting and crouching. And it definitely gave my feet a rest, which was much appreciated! They are currently all bruised and rubbed raw.
As I was leaving tonight on my way to the Hyatt, I was walking behind a couple and their daughter. One thing that struck me as completely odd was the fact that their daughter was on a leash. Yes, a leash. She was strapped into a little black harness with a leash attached being held by her dad. The worst part to behold was that this little girl kept trying to hold on to his hand, but he would pull his hand out of reach and make 'shoo-ing' gestures at her while he and his plastic woman strutted down the street.
This shocked and astounded me. Not because I'd never seen a child-leash before, but because of how... unwanted this little girl must be feeling. I don't want children and I never have, and although part of that comes from purely selfish reasons, one important thing is that I don't think I have got what it takes to provide for a child. Not in a financial way, but I wouldn't be a good mother. I am not someone who can devote time and attention, someone that a child could look up to as a model for their own behaviour, someone who could help their child with homework and guide them through moral dillemas, someone who could love unconditionally and always have time. I'm selfish, and the task of keeping myself sane is something that requires so much effort that there simply would not be enough left over for a child. But I am glad that I can acknowledge this.
These people were treating their child like a person would treat a puppy that couldn't be left at home by itself, so they had to begrudgingly take it along with them (mind you, I would treat a dog with a lot less contempt than they showed for their daughter). The responsibility that goes with having a child is so much more than making sure they have clothes, food and schooling; a parent should be someone who makes an everlasting impression on their child, in the best possible way - they should be someone that their child can look up to, learn from and be able to turn to for advice, guidance and support. If people aren't ready for this, why on earth do they do it? Abortion is not that hard; people should wait until they are responsible enough for children, or not have them at all.. rather than putting children through pain, confusion and isolation.
I'm going to get flamed badly for that.
Tuesday, December 5
Personality Crisis
When I was in Year 12, the stress and Spartan regime of study, study, and more study really got to me. Not that I did all the studying I should have... but as any procrastinator would know, not doing school work can be a lot more stressful than actually doing it.
At the time, I told Lucien that I felt like my personality was 'fading'. Everything fun, or interesting or unique about me was just being zapped out of me, until I was just bland and dull.
It's happening again.
At the time, I told Lucien that I felt like my personality was 'fading'. Everything fun, or interesting or unique about me was just being zapped out of me, until I was just bland and dull.
It's happening again.
Cookie Dough
Whoever invented cookie dough, ready-made in a tube, should be shot. It is the reason that I currently feel sick and guilty and pathetic. Or maybe I should be shot for buying it at 2am and eating a fifth of the stick.
And Lucien said that I looked so thin today. I suppose that will all be changed by tomorrow morning.
Apart from random melancholy, today was rather alright. I started at Myer, in the Christmas department. They told me it would be busy, but I had no idea it would be this busy. There was a cue of about thirty people at each register when I started, and it didn't let up for two hours. Eventually it calmed down, and I could start doing some transactions all by myself. Tragedy struck at 5:40pm, just a little before I was meant to finish. I was carrying a box and I managed to walk briskly into the solid platform-stand, resulting in a mighty lump and cut on my shin.
Anybody who has hurt their shin would know, it hurts a lot. Not only are you hurting skin and the tissue underneath, but you hit bone as well. I told myself I was ok, but after about 15 minutes I had to tell my manager. She gasped and rushed me off to the staff room, called the floor manager and a first aid person. There were ice packs and incident reports, but I'm fine. There is so much fuss over OH&S, but I suppose it's for everyone's good.
It still hurts though. It's so swollen that it sort of 'jiggles' whenever I take a step. I've been walking very slowly and carefully.
And Lucien said that I looked so thin today. I suppose that will all be changed by tomorrow morning.
Apart from random melancholy, today was rather alright. I started at Myer, in the Christmas department. They told me it would be busy, but I had no idea it would be this busy. There was a cue of about thirty people at each register when I started, and it didn't let up for two hours. Eventually it calmed down, and I could start doing some transactions all by myself. Tragedy struck at 5:40pm, just a little before I was meant to finish. I was carrying a box and I managed to walk briskly into the solid platform-stand, resulting in a mighty lump and cut on my shin.
Anybody who has hurt their shin would know, it hurts a lot. Not only are you hurting skin and the tissue underneath, but you hit bone as well. I told myself I was ok, but after about 15 minutes I had to tell my manager. She gasped and rushed me off to the staff room, called the floor manager and a first aid person. There were ice packs and incident reports, but I'm fine. There is so much fuss over OH&S, but I suppose it's for everyone's good.
It still hurts though. It's so swollen that it sort of 'jiggles' whenever I take a step. I've been walking very slowly and carefully.
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